It's a Quarter past Seven
by NinjaninaIII
Summary: ...Not really sure how to sum this one up tbh. There's banter. A lot of banter.


**A/N: 'supp. This is a story for the wonderful Dragonett3, who you should totally go and stalk on dA and the like.**

* * *

"You know, together we'd be 00Q. I think it's rather catchy, myself. Of course, that's purely hypothetical. As in, hypothetically speaking, if we were fictional characters, or, say, characters in a film, and fangirls, which are female... and, as often as not, male fans watched this film and happened to ship us, ship being the colloquial expression for pairing people together, hypothetically we'd be 00Q. I mean, I've tried several other combinations... but seeing as there is no way I'm going to be as openly idiotic as you and reveal my name to every comer and goer, the choices were pretty limited. James Q? BonQ? Quarter past Seven? Although I find the last mildly humorous, none have that ring to it, you know? So, together, I've decided we'd be 00Q. I think it sounds pretty snazzy."

"Q. You're rambling."

"I'm about to go on a life or death mission where the fate of humanity hangs in the balance. Talking helps to calm me down, okay? Usually I don't ramble, but then usually I have no-one that I want to ramble to. Do nerds talk when they're not being talked to? It's a serious philosophical question that has tested the greatest minds of humanity for centuries, possibly even millennia."

"You're hardly doing the hard part."

"Don't mock me, Bond. This is the single most dangerous thing I've ever done. It's practically my first time in the field."

"Your bow will come undone if you keep fiddling with it."

"You shouldn't have tied it so tight. I can barely breathe."

"You've worn a bow tie nearly every time I've seen you. It's your fault you didn't know how to put one on."

"Don't underestimate the power of technology."

"Clip-on ties aren't exactly the height of technology."

"See? Always underestimating."

"You would not have been allowed into a five star restaurant wearing a clip-on bow tie and a cheap rental suit. Stop fidgeting."

"They wouldn't have known. I bet half the people here weren't bought clothing that cost nearly three grand altogether. With that, you could've bought me an extremely decent tower for a computer. Or a couple of screens... Maybe partially funded a replacement for the gun a certain superspy used as dragon fodder."

"If I shouldn't underestimate technology, then you shouldn't underestimate the eyes of the bouncers we passed to get in here. They could tell you the exact hue of the thread in your trouser pocket without even looking, let alone sniff out the 50% acrylic in the shirt you usually wear. And how many times do I have to say, that was an accident."

"You have to tell me it was an accident until an apology follows. You didn't even shoot it. Once."

"Will it count as an apology if I praise the fact that you haven't touched your earpiece yet."

"I invented these earpieces so no. It doesn't count. Even though I like that you cared enough to notice."

"Ah."

"Realising that the spotty teen may be more of a match than had initially suspected, are we?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, I'm sorry for feeding the expensive gun to the lizard."

"See? That wasn't hard, was it. Even macho men are allowed to say sorry."

"Stop rambling. You're not touching your earpiece, so it looks like you're talking to your imaginary friend."

"First you praise me for not touching it, then you insult me for it. You're talking too. Bit hypocritical of you, don't you think? And how come you can see me? Where are you?"

"I may be talking, but I'm doing it subtly. Don't worry, I've got you covered."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point."

"The point is, I have to actually talk to the waiter approaching me right now, this imminent, looming threat, and explain to him that what he did indeed just witness was one of his customers kissing his definitely male companion, causing more than a slight commotion at such a high-brow restaurant, before bringing out a pistol, firing it at another customer, basically destroying the whole place, jumping up and chasing previously mentioned other customer out of the building."

"And..."

"Fine, use your, lets be frank, pretty dazed co-worker as a distraction in order to successfully hide the fact that you were drawing your gun. Destroy a bloody hotel made out of bloody diamonds and antique furniture. It's all part of the job. Terrify confused and screaming customers by open firing above their heads. That's all dandy, but eating and running? You could've at least payed the damned bill before you decided to shoot holes in the guy's head."

"Is _that _what you're worried about? The sodding bill?"

"No, the extortionately priced bill is not what I'm 'worried' about, I'm positively fuming about it. I don't have my wallet on me."

"Then explain to the waiter that this was a mission. Show him your ID."

"I don't think you understand. I'm not cut out for this sort of thing. I don't _do_talking to strangers."

"What are you, four?"

"Only mentally."

"Then act like a four year old and run."

"Pardon?"

"RUN!"

"What? Why? HOLY- DID YOU JUST FIRE AT MY CHAIR? Okay, I'm running, I'm running!"

"Don't talk whilst you run."

"Mmmmmhmmhm."

"Pardon?"

"I said... how can I... communicate.. the target's location... if I'm... running..."

"The target has already been eliminated."

"...pardon?"

"M sends us his congratulations. Apparently, he plans to send us on more double missions."

"What? No. You told me that this was a vital but one-off operation that needed my skills in the field. I haven't even got out my smartphone, let alone a laptop. What the hell did you need me for?"

"M's of the opinion that you're good at not letting me get distracted."

"Well you're hardly an agent with teamwork experience. You know I'm more use at base. Tell him that."

"I agree with him."

"Excuse me?"

"I agree with M. I believe you've contributed a lot this mission."

Q had stopped running now. He just stood in the middle of the pavement, slightly seething. "007. I am your Quatermaster, not your mission buddy. I cannot fight, run nor do I have the capacity to shoot as you do. My position is as a supplier to not only you, but as head developer of Q branch. There are other agents who need their weapons and you cannot simply assume that I am free to dilly dally about as you do. I was informed that you were a strong, independent worker, but if you have to rely on someone for emotional support, then maybe it is time you retired. The new generation cannot slow down in order to facilitate the old."

"'Slow down'? You seem to be implying that you're faster than me. Well rest assured. If the old generation ran as slow as you do, they'd have been shot years ago."

"As I said. Researcher not Agent. Now if you've finished, I think I'll make my own way back to base."

"I'll escort you there. Q? ...Q? ...goddamn it Q, don't take your earpiece out on me."

* * *

"You took your earpiece out." Bond walked into the large, strangely modern bunker that doubled as Q-branch.

"They're for use on missions, you seemed adamant that the mission had ended and I had deadlines to meet."

"You didn't let me explain my reasonings for bringing you on the mission."

"I didn't know there were reasonings to be explained," Q snorted. "But since you've revealed that the terrifying ordeal was your fault, please, carry on."

"I wanted to acclimate you to the real world."

"Thank you for that, but I don't need the real world. It's very comfortable here in the interweb."

"Fine, then I needed a disguise."

"What as, the suddenly homosexual hitman?"

"Not quite."

"Next."

"Would you like to join me for coffee?"

"...You're a very attractive man, Mr. Bond, but you also come with a very, very long track record."

"I'm sure you could change that."

"Oh I'm fairly certain the records could be wiped very easily. It's the whole 'I sleep with everyone' aura that surrounds you that may be slightly more difficult to eradicate.

"You think my standards are that low?"

"To be frank, yes. I think you run a serious risk every time you let your lust get the better of you."

"Well this-"

"'This time is different?' I'm sure I believe you."

"Will you just look at me?" Bond banged a fist against the table he was standing next to, making the computer on it rattle slightly in order to draw the attention of the man who hadn't turned towards him since he'd entered.

"I'm working. Don't even _think _about going near that power plug, James Bond."

"I-"

"You weren't. Sure. You'd never do something as childish."

"Stop-"

"Cutting you off? It's annoying, isn't it, being in someone else's domain, being useless, helpless, at someone else's control."

"...I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable out there."

"I'm sure. Are we done?"

Bond sighed and started to head out of the door before getting sidetracked and picking up something from another worker's desk. "What does this do?"

"That does not concern you. It was designed for another agent. Put it down."

"You didn't look away from the screen. How could you tell it wasn't for me."

"There's this new invention called CCTV. Isn't it amazing. Technology nowadays. It means I have eyes not only on the back of my head, but everywhere in this base and generally, the whole world."

"You're mocking me."

"Congratulations. James Bond learned 'Insight'. James Bond already has four moves. Which one should he forget? Shoot. Run. Benchpress. Sex up women."

"Pokemon. Really."

"...you understood a Pokemon reference?"

"You'd be surprised as to what I know."

"...That coffee is looking a lot more likely."

"Hm."

"That was incredibly self-satisfied sounding. I don't like it."

"This is different to what usually happens. I have to actually make an effort..."

"And you're sure Silva didn't... don't roll your eyes, I'm being incredibly serious. There is a high risk he could've used some sort of brainwashing technique on you-" Q stopped mid-sentence when he noticed a man about to join them. "Evening, M."

"Good evening, Q, Bond. I trust you're not bothering our dear Quatermaster?"

Bond put down the strange item he still held, managing to look like _it_ had jumped into _his _hands from nowhere. "Wouldn't dream of it, M."

"Good, good. I'm glad I've found you both here. I have something I need to discuss. It's about your living arrangements, Bond."

"You've managed to buy back my apartment?"

"Not quite. Unfortunately, I doubt you'll be seeing much of the housing market for quite some while, as I am going to have to put you under temporary house arrest. And whilst he is under house arrest, who better to keep him inside than someone who doesn't go outside? ...If you don't take that as offensive, Q."

Q instantly stopped silently mocking Bond when he heard his name brought into the conversation. His "...wait, what?" echoed Bond's, if only by a split second.

"My, my, I am proud of you two, that was almost fully in synch."

"You're proposing... _cohabitation _as his punishment?"

"He shot at a fellow agent and needs to learn a lesson on discipline and manners. I'm sure I need not find a teacher that could rival you."

"Locking him in with the guy he shot at is perfectly fine for you?"

"It was only to get you on your feet; you wouldn't have done anything otherwise," Bond scoffed.

"Stop bickering, children. What I say is final, do you understand?"

"..."

"I said, do. You. Understand?"

"Yes, M."

"Good, that's what I like to hear. You'll find your bags have already been delivered from your hotel room to Q's apartment, Bond. Good evening."

"...It looks like you're going to have to have that coffee with me eventually, eh, Q."

* * *

"Well this is..."

Q closed the door behind himself, dropping his coat on a messy pile besides the door. "...complain and you get to sleep on the floor."

"Where were you planning on putting me if I hadn't have complained?"

"Don't raise that eyebrow at me. There's a sofa bed in the living room, you scoundrel."

"'Scoundrel'? That's slightly archaic."

"You're slightly archaic, but you don't hear me complain- oof. LET ME GO." Bond had maneuvered himself so that he was cornering Q, taking off the younger man's glasses.

"No."

"Bond. I will only say this once. If you do not let me go, your whole file, with every minute detail about you, will be uploaded to the internet in less than a second."

"I don't believe you." He was undoing buttons now, pinning Q down so that he couldn't squirm.

"Oooasdhkil- That hurts! Let me go!"

Bond sighed. "Fine." He stood up, leaving Q to haul himself up and re-place the glasses that'd been discarded to the side. "...What's this?"

"A vase."

"Hm. And this?"

"That would be a chair... are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Just slightly confused."

"As to what, exactly?"

"Usually we'd have already had sex several times already. Just thought I'd confirm everything else was still normal."

"Great. Thanks for that."

"I think it's time for the grand tour," Bond said, opening various doors. "Where's the bedroom."

"Oh god. If you must know, it's the second door to your left, but you are strictly forbidden from entering-"

"Too late." Bond stepped in, pulling a horrified face. "Good lord, this room is a bloody wasteland. How the hell do you reach the bed? Scratch that, where even is the bed?"

"That doesn't exactly concern you, but... I might as well show someone the ingenuity of my design. If I just pull this lever here... tada, the screens and general engineering crap are all replaced with the wardrobe. And the bed is... right... under that tool kit there." Q pointed at the large teal box overflowing with various screwdrivers, hammers and bolts.

"Let me take a wild guess, you very rarely use that lever, do you."

"..."

"I guess we have at least one thing in common then."

"And what would that be?"

"Neither of us spend much time sleeping when in bed."

"Well that's a brilliant thought, thank you."

"And you're totally, one hundred percent sure that you're not attracted to me in the slightest."

"When did I ever say that?" Q stepped back from his bedroom, walking into the kitchen and then towards the fridge.

"I thought-"

"No, Bond, you do not think. That's the problem." He took out a carton of milk and decided that having a guest meant that he probably needed to use a glass.

"Okay then, tell me. Tell me, else I shan't ever understand."

"When did I start working for Q branch?"

"... I don't see why that information is necessary."

"Bzzz, wrong answer. And yet I know the exact second you signed your contract with the service. I don't just know your thumb print off by heart, but your palm print too. I know the exact colour of your eyes and the dates of every visit you've ever made to the dentist and you don't know anything but my job title and what I had for tea." If it were possible to describe drinking milk as being done furiously, then Q drank his milk furiously.

"Tell me. Trust me with yourself."

"Why, Bond. Give me a reason why I don't have any reason to believe that I'll tell you and then this house arrest will be over and you'll disappear off the face of the planet again. Will you say that you love me? That you think I'm different? Please, we both know you don't and I'm not. If anything, it's the challenge you like."

Bond frowned at the floor, standing still in the kitchen's doorframe.

"Go on, then, challenge me."

"...If you need me, I'll be in the lounge."

Bond woke up thinking that something was terribly wrong, and it wasn't the fact that he wasn't hung over. "Oh god, what the bloody hell is that smell?"

"...I thought I would apologize for my curtness last night by cooking scrambled eggs."

"...What happened?"

"...I'm not particularly sure. I can't decide whether it was my replacing the recipe's stated 'Salt', which I didn't have, with a concoction I made using some reserves of Sodium and Chlorine I had lying around in my lab, or if it was my substitution of vegetable oil for mechanical-part-greasing oil."

"..."

"That was humour. I was trying to be funny. I just burnt it a little."

"I think the latter is worse. It makes me wonder about the accuracy of your mechanics if you manage to burn the simplest of things 'a little' and seem perfectly calm about it. At least the first shows creativity."

"Well excuse me for trying to be the better man and apologizing."

"Here, let me."

"Oi, don't just throw it in the bin!"

"Were you going to eat it?"

"...no..."

"Good, because I certainly wasn't. Pass me more eggs, butter and milk. And without rolling your eyes this time, young man."

"You're just like my mother."

"I think you'll find that makes me Jocasta, Oedipus."

"I'd argue that you were more like Phaedra forcing herself on poor Hippolytus."

"How flattering."

"You're the one who started on the classics path. Don't try to outsmart the smart one."

* * *

"Seven days, and I see you haven't murdered each other yet." M decided to turn his head at the fact that Q smelled as if he hadn't had a bath for a week.

"We definitely... bonded, sir." Q rubbed his eyes tiredly. "If you'll excuse the joke." He hadn't felt safe sleeping or being at all naked when there'd been reports that Bond had literally walked into the shower many-a-times whilst it'd been occupied.

"That's what I like to here. Do you have the report sheet?"

"Just finishing it off, Sir."

"Good, good. How has your week, been, 007?"

"...exhilarating, Sir."

M chuckled. "I'm sure it has. Looks like it's done the job, though. You seem like a changed man!"

"Possibly, Sir."

"Finished." Q handed a folder to the waiting man who opened it and read it.

"...Interesting. Well, Bond, it seems your Quatermaster has failed you."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, he seems to have scored you particularly low on the 'talking back to superiors' and 'listening to instruction' sections of your assessments. Why he did so, you will have to ask him. As for your punishment, I order a longer sentence upon you with the same rules. A month of confinement at Q's apartment." M tucked the folder under his armpit, walking out of Q-branch. Halfway through the door, he turned to give Bond a sly, knowing smile. "Lets see if you finally manage to live up to your reputation this time, ey?" Then he was gone, leaving a simmering Bond to turn to Q.

"You failed me!"

"Hold up on the agro, Bond, I have my reasons."

"What, do you think I really am not suited to my job? You think our previous M couldn't judge me well enough? You really want me to leave, don't you, you spiteful little child."

"Well then, it seems you don't want that coffee anymore, then. I might as well be on my way. See you at home, Bond."

"...Excuse me?"

"Are you really that slow? You think I would completely reject you after what I told you on that first night? No. I'll see you at home after I've completed my tasks. In fact, from now on, I'll see you at home every morning, noon and night for the next month, and you're welcome for it."

"...What changed?"

"I decided that I can change you. You can't be too different to hack than a computer. And for a whole week, you stayed at home like a good little househusband: cooking, cleaning and not getting horribly pissed and taking advantage of me whilst I slept. So you've been given a chance."

"That makes me feel surprisingly vulnerable and offended at the same time."

"You heard it here first. 007 is vulnerable to the mundane tasks of a mother. I just have one... no, two, conditions. First, you cook."

"That can easily be arranged. I wouldn't like 'that pie really didn't look too great' engraved on my headstone."

"Good. Second, Ann Reilly."

"What about her?"

"If you ever repeat the 'you're Q'ute' joke you told her to me or anywhere about me, or at all even implying that there is even the slightest possibility you could be talking about me, I may have to create false evidence leading towards your immediate dismissal from the Service. Or I might impale your face with a spear. Either either."

"How did you-"

"Trust me. Everyone in Q-branch knows."

"...Everyone?"

" Everyone. Fear us, 007. Q branch knows all."


End file.
